


but maybe doesn't let me go back and save her

by Aelig



Series: Comfortember 2020 [19]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: ... i guess you can say it's fluff, :fingerguns:, Angst, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Stephanie Brown's Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Earth-197, Fluff, Gen, Kidnapping, Memory Lane, Minor Injuries, Past Character Death, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, for like a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelig/pseuds/Aelig
Summary: "They had Batgirl, and it was entirely Batman's fault.He had been distracted – too busy wondering how he was going to scold her because she came on patrol even after he told her not to; she had important exams to study for, after all. She was one of the few of his kids who was pursuing her studies, and she was good at it – he didn't want vigilantism to intrude too much into that.Not that he was surprised – she'd always been smart and resourceful."OR: Batgirl get taken from Batman's side while on patrol, and Batman doesn't like it. At all.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne
Series: Comfortember 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996051
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	but maybe doesn't let me go back and save her

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! I hope you're all okay!!
> 
> Today we have the actual first fic I wrote for Comfortember :fingerguns: I still like it lmao. Also I want more of Bruce being a good dad to Steph. (And I'm going to write it if I need to.)
> 
> Big big thanks to [neptance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptance) for being my beta at the last minute!! You're a life saver :heart:

They had Batgirl, and it was entirely Batman's fault.

He had been distracted – too busy wondering how he was going to scold her because she came on patrol even after he told her not to; she had important exams to study for, after all. She was one of the few of his kids who was pursuing her studies, and she was good at it – he didn't want vigilantism to intrude too much into that.

Not that he was surprised – she'd always been smart and resourceful.

Stubborn, too.

So, he would have prefered for her to stay at home, comfortable, _safe_ ; but she had been out, and he had caught up to her, and they had been nearly yelling at each other when the thugs popped out. The thugs only had the drop on them because both of them were distracted, mad at each other, nothing else.

One shot at Batman, and he saw it _too late_. But the bullet didn't hit _him_ , because Batgirl had stopped it with her own body.

He was mad at her for that, too; in no way it was acceptable for his children to sacrifice themselves for him.

He didn't have the chance to see the injury: how bad it was, how many stitches she would need; the thugs took advantage of his distraction to be relentless with him, and he had fought _hard_.

And he had been too focused on the fight, too; when he turned toward Batgirl, she wasn't there anymore. A trail of blood drops were the only indication she had even been there in the first place.

Batman had been distracted, and they took Batgirl.

.

.

.

It took too long for Batman to find them. They were in a warehouse – because of course it was a warehouse – not very well guarded, all of them in various degrees of anxiety or nervousness.

They weren't well-trained, or even good; they had just been lucky.

Not for long, though.

Because Batman was _angry_.

He hated when his children were taken from his side. That was a common fact for everyone in Gotham – take one of the birds and bear the consequences. That never stopped a lot of them, but the warning was enough, sometimes. At least when they were still physically children.

Through the years and despite himself, he got used to that. Dick got kidnapped more than once, still does; it had happened too many times with Jason too, especially at the beginning; Tim hadn't been more lucky on this side either, especially considering how small he always had been for his age; even Damian wasn't spared from it. None of the attempts on Cass had managed to be successful so far, except that one time she let herself be captured on purpose. (He was practically sure it was because of a bet between his children, because there was nothing else that could incite Cass to let herself get taken like that.) For now, Duke and Harper were still mostly too well protected by their siblings to allow that to happen.

Not that he couldn't see it in the future. Somehow, his children considered _being kidnapped_ as a _rite of passage_.

(No wonder he had so many grey hairs.)

But, despite all of that – despite the consistency of these events happening again and again and again – Bruce could never stomach when the one being taken was _Stephanie_.

Technically, rationally, he knew _why_ , of course.

It still didn't help.

He came on them fast and hard; they never stood a chance.

Batgirl was mostly unarmed, chained against the wall. When he found her, she was driving the guard watching over her crazy with constant talking.

Typical.

He could swear the thug was thankful for the punch and the following unconsciousness.

“Took you long enough,” said Batgirl, eyes narrowing and not a ounce of laughter in her voice anymore.

Right. They were fighting.

He grunted, looking over her quickly; she had a half done bandage on her side and blood on her forehead, probably from when they had taken her. He unchained her quickly, ready to catch her. She stubbornly slapped his hands away and walked all the way to the Batmobile, growing more and more angry at him along the way.

The ride was silent, and Bruce couldn't help but sneak worried glances at her.

.

.

.

Bruce ushered Stephanie toward the medbay as soon as she stood out of the car. She followed him, stomping on the way, and sat on one of the cot. Bruce removed his cowl and Stephanie's; he tried not to react at her furious stare but it wasn't the easiest thing.

He gahered everything he would need, still in silence, and started treating her by washing away the blood on her forehead – it wasn't that serious, fortunately. She will only have a bump, not a concussion. That done, he started working on the injury on her side, where the bullet pierced her skin; it was mostly a graze, once again nothing too serious once treated and banadaged properly. When he heard the deep breath Stephanie took, he knew what was coming.

“Are you gonna _stop_?” she snapped finally.

He calmly placed the tools on the cot, right next to Steph. “Stop what?”

She huffed. “You know what! Stop hovering over me like that!” Bruce hesitated, only a second, and Steph's eyes _burned_. “You're just- You're unbelievable! I thought-”

She stopped, then. She stopped, her eyes now focused on her hands, carefully folded on her lap. Her voice- _broke_.

“I thought you were _trusting_ _me_ , now.”

And Bruce- Bruce knew he had made many mistakes. He regretted them – especially when it concerned his children. He wanted to do better, to be better, because they deserved it. He tried.

He tried, but he knew it couldn't erase the past and the memories. It couldn't erase all the hurt and all the issues he unconsciously caused to them.

He knew this was bound to happen – old hurts, old memories, everything all over the place.

Not only for Stephanie, though.

“Okay, they got a grab at me, but really it was because I was trying to bandage the graze before going back into the fight, and I know it was stupid but you were handling it and maybe I wanted to get back at you a little but anyway, you know what? That doesn't matter. I'm _fine_. They didn't even _touch_ me.” She was breathing hard, and yelling, and Bruce- Bruce stayed here and looked at her and somewhere in his mind wondered who she was trying to reassure. “So stop hovering like that, and stop looking at me like I'm dying or something!”

And Bruce- Bruce knew they had a lot of things to talk about. About old hurts, old mistakes, old mistrusts, old- _events_. They should talk about it, because of all the feeling, all the turmoil and anger and fear and-

They should talk about it.

They really should.

But when he looked at Stephanie right now, with her watery eyes and ragged breaths and clenched fists, he could only think of her voice, tiny and afraid, asking _Was I a good Robin?_ He could only see the blood and the torn and the hurt, feel her hand so weak in his own, hear the heart monitor scream and never stopping-

He hated when Stephanie was taken. It opened a jar of memories he wanted to bury forever – that he couldn't afford to bury forever.

“Stephanie.” Bruce kept his voice low, and soothing, as much as he could. “Look at me.”

She sniffed, and clenched her fists even more, but obeyed.

“I'm not mad at you. Not for being taken, or- For going on patrol when I asked you not to. I... I was worried. I know it wasn't the best reaction and I'm- I'm sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment. He could take it. He cupped her cheek, and maybe against her best judgement she leaned a little against his hand – and he smiled, a little fond, a little hurt. He should have been better. He should have been better so many times.

“I do trust you. I promise. I really do. I'm sorry I'm bad at showing it.”

She snorted, and she relaxed a little, too.

“You are very bad at it.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

They stayed silent. But Bruce- Bruce thought about old hurts, and fears, and the past and the death. He thought about laughs and smiles and snarky retorts, about late nights, little hands in his own and punches to his face, to his guts.

He thought about love and fear and worry and trust.

“Hey,” he said, caressing a little her cheek with his thumb, and she looked at him.

And- He couldn't.

He breathed, and leaned a little so his forehead was against her own, and thought of lovetrustfear _death_.

He thought of a broken body and a tiny voice, of so many colors and the void, of regrets and tears and broken hearts. He thought of wanting to _save_ , and of _failing_ , and of _too late_.

He thought, and for once he found that he could _talk_.

“I know you joke a lot about that, but, Stephanie- Your death, it destroyed us. It destroyed me. I know we never said it. We should have. I thought... I thought you know. That you belong here, with us.” He thought, and it hurt, and it was love, and it was everything. “We can't- I can't lose you again, sweetheart.”

Stephanie had tears at the corner of her eyes. She took Bruce's hand, gently, and laid it down on her chest, just over her beating heart.

“Feel that? I'm here, Bruce.” She closed her eyes, letting them both be washed away by all these sensations, all these feelings; by the fear and by the love united between a heartbeat and words spoken in the spurt of the moment.

They said nothing, Bruce's forehead still against Steph's, his hand still feeling her life spreading away in her body, her mind, her whole being and more.

Reminding himself, herself, that death didn't tear everything apart.

Stephanie breathed. “I'm here, Dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!
> 
> Tomorrow we have Movie Night :D
> 
> Take care, all the love for you!! :heart:


End file.
